The Occupation Jeopardy
by Lightning And Blossoms
Summary: "I… I'm getting a job." "That's great! What job is it?" "Overseas bank manager." This is my view on how Alan Blunt gradually turned into the serious man he is today.
1. Personal Agendas

_A/N: This was originally a story about when Mr. Blunt had worked at the 'Bank' for 6 years so far… and it was sort of mean't to be a one-shot about Mrs. Jones… But obviously that swirled out of that line… and into this! I've had so much fun writing it, because the whole point is to show how Alan Blunt might've changed to be the way he is presented in the Alex Rider Series. He would seem a little out of character in the first few chapters because of the personality I wanted to write him with before he changes and eventually forms into the Alan Blunt we all know._

_In the Alex Rider Series he only studied for maths, so I added the studies for law in! He's 29 years old here... He was just another normal man before the M.I.6 business._

_**WARNINGS**! LOT of swearing, violence is going to pop up as well. Also, some things in this fanfiction I really wasn't sure about, like training in the police, or the rules. I tried to do some research on it... but then I just gave up. Or even about if Piranha's eat Jaguars or if Jaguars eat Piranhas, so don't take everything to heart. _

_Disclaimer: Anthony Horowitz owns everything. Oh! Expect Marty... I made him up :)_

_**The Occupation Jeopardy:**_

_**Chapter One: Personal Agendas (re-edited— 24th of December, 2012... Yes. Yeah. Yeah, like more than a year since it was uploaded... Sorry!)**_

He worked there for 6 years so far, and nothing ever really changed. Of course, there were the _expected_ changes, or the occasional unpredicted situations. Every now and again, people would be fired or sometimes retired. He watched people from being employed 'til the day their job ended, change in themselves; personality, emotional and mental attitudes. Sometimes, employers wouldn't be apart of the government any more.

They all had something in common- determination and the mind set, so it was very rare for the employer to just 'give up' being a spy.

The brown haired male had first came into the 'Royal and General Bank' when he was 29 years old. When he first came into the interview, he had his hair length just a bit above his shoulders, to which had been ordered to be cut short. It was slightly straight, and the same natural hair colour he had since he was little. Truth was, none of his family or friends had anything to do with this choice of career at the so-called-bank, but 2 years ago, he almost lost a close friend and it was the week just after he broke up with his former ex-girlfriend. He had just hadn't had much of a break after getting his first degree in maths and at the same time, law.

He wasn't prepared for the situations and his family had kept onto different career choices they pried him to do since year nine. Not wanting to feel vulnerable and ignorant again, he went to become a police officer. However, his former ex-girlfriend, Charlotte, failed to mention that her uncle was one of the top officers in the business. The stale grey eyed man didn't know this until he had _almost_ finished training and was starting his life as a police trainee. His trainer was her uncle.

Irony.

So... Things didn't properly; fights began, phone calls were made, coffees were spilled, jobs were excused, meetings with the manager arose and one time, his final 'mission' had failed. Half of those things didn't necessarily actually happen to him- the issues were like a battle towards the uncle and the uncle's niece's former ex. Alas, before his last mission as a police started, one of the higher officers, warned the brown haired man about his behaviour because _Nate_, the uncle, was _joining_.

Nate had literally received a call from Charlotte in tears within the assignment. Another fight commenced. Frustrated, Alan grabbed the phone and told Charlotte not to listen to Nate... That he missed her, that he didn't _cheat_.

They hadn't caught the burglar.

They heard the alarms too late, however, were lucky enough able to identify who the man was via. CCTV cameras. Whoever the man was, had escaped, though, and that was a point made clear in lectures. Blunt accepted the possibility that he was going to be fired.

_'Never do a phone call unless it's to order back-up.'_

To the shock of Nate and the stun of the younger male, it was actually Nate who got most of the blame- the _yelling_. He joined the police to the fact that he couldn't stand people getting hurt or harmed. He wanted to make a difference.

"_Blunt!" The higher officer called just before the male could walk away. Nate was walking towards the locker room and Blunt just assumed that he was going to call back Charlotte and explain what happened- comfort her if she still needed it. "I expect better from you next time."_

_Alan Blunt exhaled, and fidgeted with his hand. "Sir, I get it... I'm… I quit."_

_The officer's head snapped up to meet Blunts eyes. Blunt was a pretty charismatic and a smart male... Suffice to say, the officer didn't mind him. It came as a shock to hear the words come out of Blunts mouth. One thing he had thought was certain, was that Blunt wasn't easy to give up. "You… quit? You're quitting?"_

_Blunt nodded, "I don't want to be a police officer. I learnt a lot here, but… I want to be a teacher." Blunt gave a small smile, "You know I went to university for mathematics." He was lucky he went along with it, but back when he agreed, he thought he'd use it to become a lawyer instead. That's what his cousin suggested- 'you're like a calculator,' his cousin had said, 'you're good at observations and knowing what to do. That'd make you a good lawyer.'_

_The officer looked at Blunt for a moment before sighing, "It's a pity, you're like some fucking spy; we'll miss having you around. You're good."_

_Blunt laughed, "Why would you say that?"_

_The officer shrugged, shifting his weight on his feet and laughed, "you're just… I can't explain it. You're good, that's all I'm saying, mate!"_

_Blunt nodded in head in acknowledgement, the amusement still visible in his eyes. He motioned to move for the main office, to talk to the manager and explain why he quit. He thought over the conversation he just had with the officer in front of him, and realised, with a bit of surprise, that he didn't ask why Blunt was quitting. He figured that the officer just decided to let things be. Sometimes it was okay to not know._

_Blunt knew that much._

"_Hang on," the officer called again. "Honestly, were you the one who discovered him?"_

_The younger male looked the officer in the eyes, and nodded, "of course." He swiftly moved away, almost anxious to quit. He's not a police officer, or a _spy_. Being a teacher, in a classroom with teenagers, seemed like a good idea. It seemed like a great idea._

_The officer, Mark Doug, smiled and shook his head. Blunt always tells the truth, but somehow, he has this mischief about him- like he knows something you don't. Maybe, Doug thought, that's just his personality. Eventually, later that day, sometime late at night, he read over the official report, and chuckled to himself when he was informed that Blunt indeed did discover who the burglar was. Not only that but Blunt had known what had happened the second it happened and knew exactly what to do before they were even out of the vehicle. But it wouldn't have been that hard, considering the loud alarm._

"_Give me my phone, Blunt! You've no permission to use it!" Nate had screamed, basically near hysterical desperate._

_But Blunt didn't say anything. Not to Charlotte. He cut off, and didn't need to listen again- he knew what happened. He was about to say some form of a goodbye to Charlotte, when Nate took advance of the situation and yanked his phone back._

"_Darl-"_

_Blunt slapped the phone out of Nate's hand and jumped out of the vehicle. "Bank, Nate!" Blunt yelled through the open window and then ran off towards the bank. "Idiot..."_

_Nate exclaimed, hanging up the phone immediately and leaping out of the car once the abrupt alarm in the distance and Blunt's words caught up with him._

_The entire assignment had been reported, including that scene. The officer read it all, not knowing whether in sigh to the stupidity of the move Nate had pulled- someone on his phone, in the middle of an assignment, or to laugh at the attitude in which Blunt had carried himself in. He knew that Blunt had part of the fault as well- he shouldn't have attempted to talk on the phone regardless. It wasn't a good situation._

The event of the bank robbery hadn't left Alan Blunt's life straight away. Just the next day, on the evening news, there Mark Doug was, giving an interview about what had happened. Blunt was mentioned. Nate was mentioned. It was also mentioned how Blunt had quit. He had put out various applications since the day after he quit his job. He wanted to be a _teacher._

Mainly he just wanted to get back together with Charlotte. Her phone was off and whenever he got the nerve to ring her house, her brother was almost always there, and when he wasn't, the answering machine would just come up. He wandered if she had caller ID- was that why she wasn't answering?

_"You need to look for every sign in every situation and use your common sense." Nobody doubted Blunt._

* * *

><p>The phone rung.<p>

As Blunt just woke up from sleep, he wasn't sure of the time. He had no job, no alarm to wake up to get ready for university, so therefore, he just figured that it was probably just midday. As he hurriedly ran into the kitchen and yanked the phone off the point, he suddenly realised that it might be Charlotte. He's been calling her for days- besides, who else would ring? Quickly, Blunt exclaimed, "hello?"

"Hello?" Blunt repeated, more agitated when he didn't get an answer.

There was a sudden shuffle at the end of the phone and a male's voice came through the phone. His voice was deep, but when he spoke it was almost in monotone. Blunt got the feeling that the male was young, and that he didn't like the job he had. Assumptions. "Good morning, sir, is this Mr. Blunt?"

Blunt shifted his weight on his feet and said, "I could be, but I'd like to know who you are first."

The man cleared his throat awkwardly, "I… I am at the Royal and General Bank, sir. I'm Simon… I hope you're not busy, at all?"

"I'm meeting a friend today," Blunt easily lied. "Is everything okay?"

Simon almost exhaled in relief- the question proved that Blunt was who he was. Blunt knew it- he was suddenly worried if something wrong had happened to his bank account. Simon, on the other hand, was worried about having more work to do. He's only been working at the bank as some receptionist for 2 months, but he's still getting used to it. If the person over the phone wasn't Blunt- what would he do then? There wasn't any other information that he could use to contact _Alan Blunt_...

"Sir, I'm afraid you're going to have to come to the bank as soon as you can. Something's happened to your account and we need some new details," he paused, waiting for it all to sink in. "Are you about to come now? We'll only need to talk to you about it quickly, should be no more than an hour."

"That's a long time," Blunt commented pointlessly. He didn't care about the time it took- he had nothing to do today.

Just as there was a pause, Blunt looked out the window and almost sighed. It's 7 o'clock in the morning.

"Oh, sorry, sir," he quickly said, "On a minimal it shouldn't take long… maybe half an hour."

"Sure," Blunt said, "Goodbye, Simon," Blunt said simply and then hung up just as Simon opened his mouth to reply, 'Thank you, sir. Have a good day.'

Alan hooked up the phone and for a moment stared out the window. He groaned and rubbed his face in an attempt to 'wake up'. He walked back into his bedroom and got changed. Soon, he grabbed his keys, his phone already in his pocket and locked the front door behind him. And not long after that, did another ringtone explode to life.

_"Al?"_

"What happened this time, Marty?"

Marty Liams. Blunt's best friend since Year Two. They were still able to keep in touch- as they went to different high schools; they lived in the same neighbourhood.

_"Dude… I just have this weird feeling,"_ Marty said, his voice hushed onto the voice piece.

Blunt got inside his car and slammed the door closed. He didn't like the tone Marty used, but with sleep still fogging his mind after waking up, he didn't want to start driving so soon. "What? What's wrong?"

_"I woke up-"_ There was a rush of movement and then Marty continued, _"about an hour ago. I'm okay, don't go all Chuck Norris on me, just… I can't help but feel like I forgot something,"_ Marty's voice sounded more normal and he took the phone directly off his mouth, despite being frantic. _"Shit! What if I forgot something important, Al? Like last time… when Brent said that his girlfriend was coming over, but I got drunk that night and she found me lying on the bench crying because…"_ He trailed off. _"What if it's Lisa? Fuck, fuck!"_

Brent is Marty's older brother as Lisa is Marty's girlfriend. Blunt smiled into the phone- he would bet twenty dollars that his dear friend over the phone drank too much beer last night because he always gets these sort of paranoid phone calls the next day. "What'd you do last night?"

_"Oh fuck off!"_ Marty exclaimed, a bit too quickly- so after a quick pause, he started laughing. _"Fine, fine, Mr. Bond, I had a few beers, but c'mon, bro! I rung because you'd be the more likely person to know since we talk like daily," _He put the phone to his mouth again,_ "If someone didn't know us too well, they'd think I'm fucking gay or something."_

"Year Twelve, Graduation- you looked like you were going to kiss-"

Marty groaned, _"No! No, come on, I thought I explained that! It wasn't like that… I was... happy! Thinking of started new, cause high school was done… I mean, are you even sure I was looking at-? Because Lisa was walking over from behind-"_

No one said anything, but Alan was not worried that he wasn't heading over to the bank. He was happy just mocking his friend over the phone... Besides Marty knows that he understands.

_"So, I'll take it that I didn't forget anything today?"_

Blunt sighed, "Marty, you didn't tell me anything important about today expect that you need to pick the clothing off the line-"

_"-Did that-"_

"-Liar... And you know what? It really is gay that I know that you had to pick up clothes and you didn't..." There was no comment. "So, no, you're fine. Everything's fine. And also, stop referring back to when Lisa caught you babbling that one morning- it was two year ago, you sound like a stubborn moron now."

_"Fine. Whatever…"_ Marty inhaled, _"Al?"_

"Yeah?"

_"Talk to you soon?"_

"Knowing you, of course," Blunt hung up the phone before Marty could reply.

* * *

><p>29 year old Alan Blunt drove into the parking lot of Royal and General Bank. Still six years in the future, he's unsure of why he never had any feeling before he walked through those doors. Marty had a feeling, and he wasn't even there to know what happened…<p>

Simon was there, pointing Blunt to the elevator- _'level 20,'_ he said. Truth was; Blunt was worried. He never had walked into the bank because they rung him. He just practically got out of university. He's never been bankrupt before- what if he is? What would he do then? He just _quit_ his job as a police officer! Well… he was just a trainee, really, but… he was good, he wouldn't be modest about that.

"Far out," He muttered when he saw that the elevator was in use. He crossed his arms and waited. Level 11… Level 8… 4… 3…

Soon enough the elevator made a 'ding' and opened. He immediately smelt peppermint, oppression you receive from the wall and the rush of air conditioning. And there was someone in there. Her hair reached a little below her shoulder, two columns of a bit of her hair was tucked behind her ears and positioned in front of her. She looked younger than the two other males but the way she stood her ground made her seem more superior. She looked up at Blunt.

For a second, neither moved and then, as Blunt stepped forward she walked forward until they were standing a foot away. The elevator doors closed then, but didn't go up. "Are you Alan Blunt?" She asked, the smell of peppermint hitting his face. The smell was almost unbearable as he honestly hadn't expected that huge aroma to come from someone's mouth- how could _she_ handle that?

"Who are you?"

"I am Mrs. Jones," she smiled, "You're here for your bank aren't you?" She was wearing a silver necklace.

He refrained from sighing, "yes, I am. Are you the manager?"

Mrs. Jones' face brightened and she looked like she wanted to laughed, "I'm not. But if you'd follow me…" She paused, almost waiting for a decline and then started walking back towards the entrance doors.

They ended up walking towards a black car with darkly tinted windows. Blunt had a bad feeling… he didn't know this women, and he found it strange to go into the car. But he always thought that he could handle himself… Maybe he was thinking too self assertive, but… he felt better knowing he did have a taser in his pocket, for example. He can return it tomorrow.

But… he couldn't explain it, something still felt different. Something weird, but not bad. He questioned the lady and she basically gave him a very vague answer. _'To the other side of the bank, to see the manager'_. He got into the car, unable to help the edginess he felt. Now, he really did feel like James Bond, and he was _not_ happy about it.

It was a quick ride to the other side of the building. As they both got out of the car and repeated the journey of entering the doors, however, different side of the building, he couldn't help but be flooded with relief and gratefulness. He was always a very paranoid one. He'll probably call Marty after riding back to his house and maybe go over his house. It depends on what happened to his bank. Thinking about it he started feeling apprehensive again.

The appearance was exactly the same, just a different receptionist. This one was a female and she looked more content and natural behind the desk than Simon had. She looked up as Blunt and Mrs. Jones walked in and offered a small professional smile. Mrs. Jones smiled back. Blunt said a nonchalantly, "Hi." She looked back down and continued to file the folders on her desk.

"I'll take you to his office, okay?" Mrs. Jones said in a question; however Blunt followed her to the office wordlessly after they got out of the elevator. Once they had gotten into the office an eerie feeling washed over the dark eyed male, one mixed in with an odd sense of thrill. A man with grey hair and suit sat behind the desk. His brown eyes looked up.

"Thank you, Mrs. Jones," He said, giving a brief nod. Mrs. Jones nodded her head and the man chuckled a bit. "Please sit down," he said.

Blunt sat down.

"I'm Cameron Sebastian; I'm basically in charge of this bank."

"I thought so, what's wrong with my account?"

Sebastian sat back down into his chair, his expression was causal. "You're a police officer?"

"I was."

"You quit."

Blunt nodded, the side of his lip twitching… he didn't come him to small talk. He needed to know what was wrong with his account.

"Why?"

Blunt shrugged but just as he was going to open his mouth, Sebastian asked, "So, you're going to return the uniform after its cleaned?"

"By tomorrow," Blunt mumbled.

"Ah," Sebastian exhaled. "Well, you see, my job is going to be over with soon as well. I've worked for here for about 30 years, if you must know, I'm 50 years old. I've decided to retire- for personal reasoning."

"Oh," Blunt responded plainly. He didn't know what to say. He honestly didn't really _care_; that's not what he came here to talk about. He knew it was rude to interrupt the man. Blunt had a feeling that he was talking about this for a reason.

"And as long as I've been here, I've seen men like you. I basically _know_ you," Sebastian continued, leaning across the desk now. "I… I know what you want; a good job, morally correct, something… good for you. Something with your skills, right?"

There was a pause. Blunt stared at the man blankly. He was slightly dumbfounded. Were they offering him a _job_? Why did they lie about his bank account to get him to come here and offer a job? And if that was their main purpose the entire time, why did this Sebastian guy not know that he employed now? It all didn't match up. Finally he said dead-panned, "there's nothing wrong with my bank account-_ is there_?"

Sebastian cracked a humorous smile and said, "No, I'm afraid not. But I have something to offer to you... What do you really care about in this world?"

Charlotte, was the first thought that came to his mind.

When he thought about it, he didn't know what he cared about the most. The were drugs, abuse… a lot of things in the world he's against. He was a bit like Nate in that way- wanting a difference. unlike Nate, he's more content about the title "survival of the fittest." He always had.

Seconds after, he looked up at the man named Sebastian and knew that he cared a lot about his family and friends. He'd be prepared to take a bullet for them.

Blunt decided to just not answer his question. The grey haired male seemed to figure that out as he said, "You can help it, you know. I've heard a lot about you; I know how good you are. I am offering a job, a very important one. You have to be smart, though," Sebastian turned the tables, trying to challenge the dark eyed young adult in front of him.

Blunt was determined _not_ to fall for it.

"It'll change your life forever though… so," Sebastian grabbed a card from inside of a drawer from his desk. He held it front of him, "Call me if you're interested… Your bank account, would be so fulfilling you don't have to worry about the mortgage."

Blunt's glance turned to the card positioned in front of him. Sebastian gave off that he was calm, patient. Blunt was willing to bet he wasn't- because he still hasn't said _what_ the job offer was.

Glancing at Sebastian, Blunt felt as though he gave off a very anti-original and bad advertisement. _"Change your life forever"_, _"save the world"_ and _"guarantee of lots of money."_ All he knew now was that he wanted to leave… and find out more about what he was told. He remembered what Sebastian just told him, as he reached for the card. "_So fulfilling you don't have to worry about the mortgage."_ Was that a bribe? He didn't doubt it. But would a career at a bank really pay _that_ much?

He grabbed the card and put it in one of the pockets of wallets. Once he put his wallet away, Sebastian was looking very passive but please with himself, his fingers intertwined on the desk. "What… What job are you offering?" Blunt finally asked.

"Government affairs."

Blunt stared at the man blankly again. He was beginning to wander if he was being pranked, but he doubted it very highly. Finally he stuttered, trying to figure out more, "So… like an overseas business man?'

"If that's what you'll call it. Sure."

Eventually Blunt stood up, just wanting to go home. Sebastian stood up as well, seemingly on second thought and they shook hands. "Thanks," Blunt muttered and then walked out the door.

* * *

><p>Humans are humans, which means emotions will go to extreme highs and lows willingly or not. Blunt always tried to remain calm in situations, because he realised from experience that it equals control. Despite being unemployed on his own accord, everything from the past few days... And months, overwhelmed Blunt's fatigue and he wanted to throw something at a wall.<p>

He thought about chucking the remote at the TV.

He was so frustrated.

He already knew he was going to take the job.

Well… he thought he was, but he was still going to think straight through it more properly and perhaps then, he'll change his mind. He wanted a simple life, a good paying job and a bank job seemed to be that. Whether or not he was going to be an overseas business man didn't matter.

He wouldn't mind it though, he always wanted to travel around the world.

He settled into the couch around 20 minutes later, with a beer in his hand and the phone in the other. It's only 8:30am in the morning. He doubted that Marty was still asleep, but it didn't matter anymore. He was started to feel nostalgia and wanted to escape it. All he could think of now was the 'what if's with Charlotte.

Marty picked up the phone after first five rings, which didn't surprise Blunt.

"_Al_?" Marty sounded confused.

"Yeah, it's me. What are you doing?"


	2. Secrets

_A/N: *coughs*... *ahem* (imitates Troy McClure) 'Hi, I'm Lighting And Blossoms. You may remember me from such Alex Rider fan-fictions as A Different Day In The SAS and Social Interactions...'_

_*crickets*_

_Oh, maybe because I haven't touched this Story for about 15 months, everybody's abandoned this fanfic? I'm... I can't even begin to describe how sorry I am. I never forgot about The Occupation Jeopardy. I even have the third chapter written._

_Due to the time growing from chapter one- my writing style has changed. I read it... And I wanted to cry. I left it so disorganised... For over a year... On my profile?! _

_**Chapter Two: Secrets**_

_He settled into the couch around 20 minutes later, with a beer in his hand and the phone in the other. It's only 8:30am in the morning. He doubted that Marty was still asleep, but it didn't matter any more. He was started to feel nostalgia and wanted to escape it. All he could think of now was the 'what if's with Charlotte._

_Marty picked up the phone after first five rings, which didn't surprise Blunt._

_"Al?" Marty sounded confused._

_"Yeah, it's me. What are you doing?"_

Marty Liams came over to his house about an hour after. With the goal of getting over his hangover, he drank orange juice, sending occasional subtle glances at Blunt's bottle of beer. The medicine that he was offered hadn't kicked in yet, making Marty differ between rambled conversations and bitter quiet. After 20 minutes of just talking, Blunt finally stood up and went into the kitchen to grab Mr. Sebastian's business card. As the silence continued, Blunt took a swing of his beer.

He was just waiting. Waiting calmly because he knew how Marty was going to react. In fact, with all the seriousness that clung to him since he left Mr. Sebastian-Dude's office, he almost craved the raw laugh that Marty exploded into. Marty couldn't quite handle the humour of the situation and the headache he had- alternating between laughing, groaning and twitching movements to 'protect' his head.

"Yes, I get it..." Blunt said, eventually smiling. "I was just thinking..."

"_You_? Stuck in a _bank..._ Daily?"

Blunt had originally decided that he wanted to be a teacher. Being in a classroom, having complete power over children who might save the world one day- might be the President he could vote for in an Election. Finally, somebody could appreciate him for the knowledge he learnt (rather forcefully, at first) from college. He understood there'd be drama and it could be boring, but Blunt couldn't imagine himself as boring... That'd be like when hell freezes over. He knew children would love to have him as a teacher, when they get used to him- because he'd never make a class boring. That'd be a goal of his. He spent nights thinking about how to make not-so-motivational lessons, become very inspirational. Sometimes, when he couldn't sleep or he was almost drowning on thoughts about _her_, he got off his back and started writing ideas.

Being a police officer: helping and physical interaction? Blunt lives for those moments. He _quit_ that job, in hopes of maybe being a teacher... And now, he's considering a career of... None of that.

_Perhaps,_ he was almost in despair, _the job would pay good enough._

It took a bit of 'Marty-Intelligence' for both the males to agree on Blunt actually taking the job. _"Who cares if you don't like the guy, Al?"_ Marty had said. _"It probably will have good money... I'm willing to bet on that. And, maybe you could sneak calls to me- Oh, brah, pranks! Maybe you'd be the first pulling pranks at a bank whilst working there..."_

When Alan Blunt went to the bank the next morning, he had a feeling his life would change- so he kept Marty's words in his head to keep him down on Earth. It felt like he somehow managed to move from Earth's grounds to Pluto's surface when he walked into Sebastian's office. Cold atmosphere- maybe because his life was going to change to more secrets and seriousness- or maybe because Blunt felt intense dislike when Sebastian merely smiled. He knew. He knew Blunt was going to take the job- maybe he was just being smug because regardless of what he thought; Blunt was _back_ in _his_ office.

Together, they walked down the hall and into a separate office where Sebastian shut the door and closed the window. "You… Are you a hundred and ten per cent sure you want to agree..._ to this_?"

Blunt rubbed his eyebrows whilst the older male sat down in a chair. He replied, almost as easily, "What am I agreeing to?"

"You do know this building is with the government, yes?" Blunt just nodded. "Do you remember when you walked around the other side and Mrs. Jones brought you back here?" Again, Blunt just nodded, feeling sheepish at just doing so. "She had to bring you here to talk to me because I run _this_ building. The other side, where Mr. Basket works-"

There was a pause where Blunt interrupted, "Mr. Basket?"

Sebastian put his hands flat on the desk, remaining content. "Ah, you might know him as Simon? He's the receptionist." Blunt didn't say anything, but the comprehension came onto his face, clear enough for Sebastian continued. "Mr. Basket works at the side of this building where the bank is run. That's where your safe bank account is. This side of the building is about Government Affairs, surely you knew that?"

Sebastian was a smart man; he had to be a smart man to deal in the business he works in. He evaluates everything and has different personalities to protect himself in MI6. Of course, he was only slightly playing with Blunt. If he didn't think the adult could handle this job, he would've seen the circumstances as amusing. It was pretty clear that Alan Blunt would not have known there was two sides of the building that MI6 was involved- that Government Affairs was involved. If so, then there was a clear security breach that needed to be fixed immediately. Sebastian knew it was possible that this man could have been involved in a previous mission, could have breached intelligence and know all of this- which was why Sebastian scanned the man in front of him, very carefully. Blunt wasn't hiding his emotions- and why would he?

With the obvious 'no' from Blunt, Sebastian said, "well, if you get a job here you're going to be working in a very quick-moving and subtle environment."

"How?" Blunt quickly added- thinking Sebastian was going to keep talking and lose him along the way. "But what job are you offering me? You're still not telling me."

Sebastian rubbed his nose and then leaned back with his back on the chair. He spent most of last night not sleeping, having to make sure- with paperwork- that he was doing the right thing. He checked on everything; about Alan Blunt. So, he was very tired. Maybe it was the old age or maybe it was all the years of espionage catching up with him, but he just wanted to crawl into a ball and drink decaffeinated coffee. He felt as though it was against all protocol of this business, but Sebastian was kind of a religious person. He was almost praying that he could show some emotion in front of Blunt, but the paranoia in his mind, didn't allow the break.

In the moment of desire, Sebastian crossed his arms (a defensive tactic he understood, but doubted Blunt would care about) and stuck to facts, to get him through a situation he wanted to leave. Stating, "That is official business. We are dealing with the problems around the world, such as security. If you do join, you will label yourself an overseas manager because our work is censored and important. Nobody- _nobody_- is allowed to know about our agency. It's a dark job and it's not for the weak… So, you'd have to join the SAS first before you're able to do your job. I'm hoping you know what the SAS is?"

"My job, my job-," Blunt interrupted again. "If it's not the overseas manager, what the hell is it? You're making this sound really..."

Sebastian ignored the questions, Blunt will understand soon enough; it's clear. He'll need time to process it, though. Sebastian hoped he didn't make a mistake. Even accurate things, can still kill a person. "You will need to sign the Official Secret's Act. Do you know what that is?"

There was silence in the room. Unsure of how he knew, based from memory, Alan Blunt nodded, his mouth opened a little in astonishment. He still didn't understand anything he was being told. How can he comprehend from acknowledging this was bank to its some secret agency job place in little less than 20 minutes? Wait, he corrected himself, half of this building. He sort of understood. These were in those movies, weren't they? He remembered spy movies- bits and pieces from what Sebastian said, kind of interfered with those...

Blunt couldn't help the idea coming into his head; that he's been given an offer to be a spy. But who in the love of all that is good, decided to hire _him_? Isn't spies mean't be subtle, quiet, quick and smart? They all know their job and good at… sneaking. But, Blunt isn't that! Not to some _spy_ level. Need help figuring out your neighbour, or deciding what Marty mean't when he rambled with a mouth of macaroni cheese? Blunt's your man. Trying to diffuse interrogation and eliminate the threat of bombs? Blunt is the man who'll willingly disappear to the other side of the world simultaneously and try to drag you with him.

Besides, that only happens into_ those movies._

_This isn't possible,_ Blunt finally concluded. He just felt like it was all a prank. Why would MI6 be in the same building as an actual back account, any way?

"If you sign the Official Secret Acts," Sebastian said slowly, the stare he kept onto Blunt's eye contact was suddenly intense. The cards were laid on the table clear, now, and Sebastian knew he needed to be the dealer in control. "Then you can't break it. We're the government; you're smart enough to know there are consequences for that. And their really harsh- and I wouldn't want that to happen to you. But I'm sorry to say, with the OSA, you don't have much of a choice- you're going to need to sign it... Whether you join us... Or not."

They looked at each other for a moment and then Blunt said, "So… I'll be like…" He struggled to find a word, and finally blurted, "a spy?"

Sebastian looked dead serious. People in this business are very determined- they are strong and can be plain-spoken. Throughout it all, he's never heard one of them dully say 'spy'... He allowed himself a moment to laugh. "Yeah, that's about right."

Blunt chuckled nervously, wandering if the manager was a little bit... _crazy_. The man stood up and subsequently Blunt followed suit, without question. With the constant talk of the OSA, he figured that's where he was going. Instead, Blunt stopped short when Sebastian turned around- suddenly intimidatingly close. "There are a lot of safety _hazards_ in this job. In extreme cases, there's death as occupational hazard." Blunt's face went blank. He suddenly just had every muscle in his body scream, _'bolt_!' but then Sebastian said, "However, if you agree to join, you'll go to the SAS for a few months, okay? Like I had mentioned... And then for a year you'll be having desk work. If your ready or we need you then you'll become... a spy."

Sebastian gave Blunt a look that mean't 'do you understand?' and Blunt just nodded... _Almost_ numbly. He wasn't so sure that he should join now: What type of job has an occupational hazard as death... in a building... with a _bank_? _A bank?!_

But he agreed. He could do that: he could sign the Official Secret Acts...

They walked into another office without anyone. Blunt wasn't a claustrophobic person, but with the stuffy atmosphere, the pressure of the sudden secrets and rows and rows of paperwork with a stranger he wasn't sure he hated any more, he was starting to feel dizzy and trapped. In there and Sebastian pulled out a very thick folder. Blunt skimmed the pages before deciding that he knew what it was mainly about. _Holding the secrets._ He knew he could do that... He hoped he could do that with such a stress, so, he grabbed the papers and read them. Even if he was worried about if he could cope with it- Sebastian said the truth himself; he didn't have a choice. What could they honestly do to help him any way? It needs to be signed, and now is the time.

Sebastian stayed in the room with him, for that amount of time which was about an hour. He was stony and silence, just watching Blunt. Then, Blunt signed the papers.

He looked up at Sebastian who gave him a big smile. "Thank you," Sebastian said and grabbed back the papers, placing them in one of the folders in one of the drawers in one of the...

There was a moment's silence and then Blunt said, "You have to tell me everything now."

"Why do you say that?" Sebastian said easily, as if Blunt didn't just ask him something that solemn.

"I signed the Act; you can trust me. I agreed to do the job so-"

"You're right," Sebastian said and crossed his arms, leaning on one of the walls. Blunt gazed at him for a moment and then looked around the room, again. The door was shut. It was a pretty long but small room, though it looked organised, the walls looked different...

"What's with this room?" Blunt asked. "It's-" and then suddenly he pieced it all together. "Oh, it's sound proof isn't it?"

Sebastian nodded. Blunt wanted to ask if all the rooms and offices in the building was sound proof but he doubted Sebastian would give him a straight answer. Then, abruptly Sebastian said, "Have you heard of MI6?"

Blunt shook his head. "I know of M15, though."

Sebastian nodded, "that's fine… but it's MI5."

Blunt nodded in apology, eyes shifting again.

"Well… MI6 is kind of similar to MI5, we try to protect the world. We are what you could call spies. But here we call them agents. We counter terrorism. This is what you would call espionage," Sebastian paused, waiting for Blunt's reaction. Blunt didn't say anything.

"If you join… you will be involved with this. You'll be saving the world, and yes… sometimes missions can incorporate assassins but that's for the higher up agents, really. There are a lot of side effects from this job… It involves all aspects, mentally, physically… socially. It's a big deal. It will change your life." Sebastian paused again. "Do you have any questions? Are you al-right so far?"

Blunt just nodded. Sebastian smiled and stopped leaning on the wall. "Well, that's pretty much it. You can think about it tonight, but… You're not allowed to talk to anyone about it since, you know, that'd disregards the whole point of the Official Secrets Act."

Blunt nodded again and Sebastian swallowed, worried he had just terrified this man in front of him. "Belle- the receptionist on our side, will ring you tomorrow morning and you'll more likely be called to come here so we can discuss this further."

"Thanks," Blunt said.

Sebastian nodded once and then he opened the door. "Have a nice day, sir."

"You too," Blunt said as he began walking towards the elevator.

* * *

><p>Once Blunt got home he found Marty asleep on his couch, curled up, facing the wall of the couch. The blanket looked like it had been thrown haphazardly onto the floor. From the doorway, Blunt crossed his arms, and noted that even though the man was asleep, his eyebrows were furrowed. To Blunt, it wasn't a concern because he was aware that Marty was still getting through some hangover. Unless, it actually was a nightmare- but Blunt had dealt with that before. It's more violent and simple to handle than Marty on an actual hangover.<p>

He would've sighed if he didn't feel so disconnected and thoughtful.

Blunt let Marty sleep on his couch as he, himself, felt immensely tired as well. He wanted to just crash somewhere and fall into a deep sleep for a few weeks. Without a care in the world; about Charlotte, what Marty mean't yesterday morning, jobs… being unemployed, an eyelash threatening to fall onto his eye. But he knew that if he tried it'd be...

A sad attempt.

The unfortunate part… He couldn't even talk to Marty about it.

_Oh God,_ Blunt thought. _I'm going to fucking blow…_

He walked into the kitchen and pondered about drinking some alcohol. Then he disregarded the thought- he didn't feel like it anyway. He opened the fridge, gazed inside and then suddenly, it was decided; he'll drink a whole glass of water, and then he will crash on the opposite couch. Fuck his problems for two hours. He'll even set some alarm on his phone. He wondered about both his and Marty's reaction to being woken up by some alarm. Marty's most definitely still be pretty bad with a headache, so that wouldn't end well.

_Three hours, then._

And so, it was done. Blunt drank his water, hastily collapsed onto the free couch. He stared at the ceiling, realising it could be a while before he actually slips into blackness. He didn't even know what to think- what the heck was someone meant to think when they're offered and told about the world of spies?

People all have different opinions about those things. Some don't believe it exists, some prefer not to think about it so that they spare themselves a headache. Some could possibly believe it's real, some might believe something's out there… something's holding everything together along with the government. And then, obviously there's those select few people around the world who are the spies. And assassins.

And he thought about how it felt. It felt as though Disney has came to life with _consequences._ Not even his confused could think of what was happening- what could be happening around the world now. Was there other people he's passed across the street know the same secrets as him?

It's surreal.

He didn't know what to think or feel. So, Blunt took a deep breath and then let his head loll on the side so that it lay near his shoulder. For a few strained moments, Blunt stayed awake, determined to just keep his eyes shut. He didn't think of anything because he was too tired. And then… soon, he fell asleep.

_A/N: Okay, this was a serious chapter in a supposed to be humorous fanfic... Um, I'm sorry about that. But this filter chapter had to be done. Haven't even edited this chapter; I just wanted to get through this chapter as soon as possible. _


	3. Hey Marty- still have that hangover?

_A/N: (imitates Troy McClure) 'Hi, I'm Lighting And Blossoms. You may remember me from such Alex Rider fan-fictions as A Mint Ice Cream Dilemma and From Vague, Tinted Conversations...' _

_*distant cough*_

_Still nobody around? Anybody? I mean... I know it was like 15 months since I uploaded chapter two, from chapter one... But... I'm still here! And I am still writing this! Look- an update! See? I'm writing Chapter Three- Well, technically, I _wrote_ it, since you are reading it now... Right? _

_*coughs*_

_Um... *runs from computer* *5 minutes later comes back with hot chocolate shaking in hand cartoonishly* I'm a bit sleep deprived so I'm even trembling a little. I'm sorry if I sound frantic! I LOVE YOU ALL! LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, LOVELY LOVE..._

_**The Occupation Jeopardy**_

_**Chapter Three: Hey, Marty- still got that hangover?**_

_He didn't know what to think or feel. So, Blunt took a deep breath and then let his head loll on the side so that it lay near his shoulder. For a few strained moments, Blunt stayed awake, determined to just keep his eyes shut. He didn't think of anything because he was too tired. And then… soon, he fell asleep._

"SHIT!"

Two heads jumped off a soft materiel.

Two males with different expressions looked in different directions.

One alarm kept screaming.

"What is this nonsense?" Alan Blunt rubbed his face, banging his hip in the corner of... something solid as he walked into the kitchen. Searching, as if someone would jump from behind and cry. His friend, Marty, remained on the couch, staring in his direction.

"Hey, just so you know," Marty yelled over the noise, "if this is a burglar, I'll just... Take care of the living room, okay? I think this should be a deal because... You wouldn't want to lose the television, right?"

Blunt rubbed down both his cheeks slowly by both his palms, gazing at him. "What much help would you be? Your just lying on the couch! The burglar would just walk through the other side of the living room and maybe smack you in the head with something."

Marty barely rose from behind the pillow in an attempt to glance at his friend more clearly. The noise was merely ignored easily by both house occupants. It was currently more important to talk about these case study scenarios. It's not all the time, but sometimes, Marty has lived in Blunt's house. Displaying comfort, Blunt followed suit by placing his elbows on the kitchen counter-top and holding his head. In the pause of conversation, the noise abruptly went silent- making Marty laugh shortly.

Throwing his hands up in consideration, the male exclaimed, "Al- do you seriously think I'm slow enough not to see a burglar on the other side of the room? I don't care if they're wearing black clothing to blend in- I'd notice them!"

Blunt rolled his eyes, "Marty, I wasn't saying your vision is impaired. I meant that your lazy."

Marty opened his mouth to retort, amusement slipped from expression, when the alarm began ringing again. By now, both males were partly awake and realised it was from the mobile under the table.

Near Marty.

Subconsciously, the said male glanced at the mobile- changing the conversation. He quickly snapped his head to look back at his friend, but the action already stuck in the atmosphere. He knew it when Blunt started grinning.

"So... What's for breakie?"

"Why don't you stop the alarm, Marty?"

Marty loudly inhaled and exhaled, determined to prove to his best friend that he was indeed the opposite of lazy. "Let's say, that a burglar is behind the living room now, holding your bed under his arm! If I was to get up and stop the noise- he'd realise that something was up. The change of the environment- the vulnerability of silence." Marty laughed quickly without humour. "Oh yeah, then you'd be screwed!"

Blunt couldn't help the smile that remained on his face. There was a few things wrong with Marty's story, but he was too curious for his own good. Without hesitation he asked, "I'm screwed- why?"

The blond male on the couch attempted to jump in a more comfortable position, but the blanket that had been collapsed on the floor hours prior, was still tangled from his hip- preventing much movement. Puffing out loud, Marty sat up so his back was to the couch- his head pounding a little a bit.

"Well- there's two more common reasons why you'd be fucked. One- because if the burglar is aggressive, he'd be paranoid about your whereabouts and when you've doing the Nancy Drew method of snooping around like a pink panther, he'd be ready to jump down your throat. And then bolt out the door with your cherished bed."

"And if he's not aggressive?"

"Obviously," Marty drawled, "if he's not aggressive- he'd be more paranoid. So he'd probably dump your bed back and then escape without you ever knowing who it was! Yes, yes, that is a problem! Why is that a problem? Well... That is a problem because then next time he'll come back he'll turn the aggressive persona. And I won't be around to protect your TV."

"If I was really being robbed right now- and you started talking like your at the cinemas; then what if they'd had already stolen my coffee machine without my knowledge? Cause your brilliance-ness distracted me?"

"I am a genius- therefore, I knew that it was an alarm."

"Why didn't you turn it off then?"

* * *

><p>Blunt felt two sensations in his body. One at his knee and one on the side of his head. He gazed back at his pillow which looked like a hill because one side was levelled very low- that's where his head was whilst he was sleeping. He hadn't move at all for three hours... Until, you know, he went all 'Nancy Drew' as Marty called it, for the alarm.<p>

Marty looked up at him when he walked back into the living room from the kitchen, turning off the alarm. "What?"

"What?" Blunt repeated, sitting down on the couch.

"Sandwiches?"

"Yeah."

There was a pause where Marty gazed at the crumple of blanket at his feet. Normally he'd be up for food- he really, really did feel like eating sandwiches... However, his head was feeling like there was a knife inside it. Even though he wasn't moving, the metaphorical knife was sharp and painfully noticeable. If he so happened to move too much- the knife turned into a hammer that kept hitting him on the head.

Despite being hungry... He didn't think he'd make it to cutting the ham before puking stomach-acid from his alcohol intake last night.

"Are you going to make it?"

"Yeah," Marty eventually said.

Silence reigned again until Blunt stood up... merely to grab the remote.

"Please..." Marty groaned once the sounds from some tv show entered the living room. He lifted his arms to his head and squeezed his eyes shut. "Ah, it's not calming down... It's..."

* * *

><p>It looked like Marty had fell asleep, but every now and again the man would sigh. Understanding the torture of hangovers- Blunt walked back into the kitchen and filled the bread with lettuce, cheese, cucumber and ham for both him and Marty. On the advantage- he hadn't lowered the volume of the TV too low so he could still listen.<p>

He brought the beloved food to the coffee table and then walked away again just as Marty opened his eyes. Upon seeing his sandwich Marty wanted to sleep- having the desire to eat but too weak to get up, made him just want to ignore it all and sleep.

In the kitchen, Blunt filled two large glass cups with water. "C'mon, Marty, get up."

Marty let out a groan but it didn't last long as he didn't want it to disturb his head. It was true that the pill he took a few hours ago did work, but he still had some headache. "Shut up; my head hurts."

"Shouldn't say that to the chef."

When there was no response, Blunt picked up his sandwich and started eating it. He wasted about five minutes choosing some channel on the TV, until he gave up and played The Simpsons. Rolling his eyes at something Bart did, he didn't notice Marty hadn't moved until he finished half of his sandwich.

"I can chew your food for you if you'd like," Blunt suggested half heartedly.

"Ew," Marty stated. Then he opened his eyes and said, "your disgusting."

Blunt laughed, "that's a real classic- coming from you!"

Mary's serious expression didn't change as he replied, "you're also not helping."

Blunt rolled his eyes and went back into the kitchen to get another pill for his dear friend.

* * *

><p><em>The Next Six Hours:<em>

"I really like the cucumbers you put in my sandwich."

"Not a problem," Blunt said nonchalantly, feeling more happy lying down on the couch and having a Simpsons Marathon, than how he felt the past few weeks.

"No," Marty said. "Seriously, bro... Could you cut me some more? I think the freshness of it really helps-"

Blunt only halfheartedly glared.

* * *

><p>"That's funny, what Homer does."<p>

Blunt didn't bother to reply, almost falling asleep on the couch. He remained in the same position the past hour.

"I mean... He vents out his frustration in strangling his son."

Finally, the expression on Blunt's face changed into mild horror and extreme confusion. He opened his mouth to ask Marty if he was okay when he didn't get the chance. Marty is against violence- in fact, under normal circumstances he'd never use the words 'strangle' and 'funny' in the same sentences.

Marty quickly said, "I thought you should know- so that when I strangle you because of the bloody volume you lifted on the TV, you'll feel enlightened."

Blunt lifted an eyebrow, "enlightened?"

"To. Turn. The. TV. Down!"

Blunt lifted the remote for the second time in 5 minutes and lowered the volume, feeling weary as Marty is usually the one listening to his earphones on max. The hangover is probably getting worse with the male lying on the couch for the past few hours with two pillows.

"I find you funny," Blunt eventually said, staring back at the TV. "Threatening me when you can't even raise your voice 'cause then you'd vomit."

From the corner of his eyes, Blunt saw Marty make a whine-like sound and place his hands on his face. "I'm sorry... I'm never gonna be within one kilometre of alcohol again!"

Bart Simpson's laughing from the TV came on cue.

* * *

><p>"How long does it say... On the packet? Between intake of pills?"<p>

"You're not taking another pill, Marty."

"I've only had two! All day and the... Last one was like... A while ago."

"I understand."

Marty made another animal-like noise from his throat before trying to sleep again.

That only lasted about one minute before Blunt threw a pillow at him. At Marty's query, Blunt explained that he'd practically been sleeping hours on end- or ordering him around to do things. He just wanted to chill with his friend. His hangover must be calming down after around 24 hours, right?

"No."

"No?"

Pause. "Well..."

"Well? Your talking long sentences now- You couldn't even move on the couch like 5 hours ago!"

Marty sighed, "perhaps I'm feeling better."

Another pillow whacked Marty.

* * *

><p>Marty rubbed his face. "Al? When are we going to eat dinner?"<p>

"You seem way better, Marty. You won't shut up."

"So?"

"Why don't you make dinner?"

* * *

><p>Marty eventually stood up to go to the toilet.<p>

* * *

><p><em>The Next Morning:<em>

The sound of liquid crashing against the solids of the sink and the smell of peppermint tea was what 29 year old Alan Blunt woke up to at seven o'clock in the morning.

Actually, that was exactly what it was- Blunt realised, when he zombie-walked into the kitchen- _his_ kitchen- and saw Marty tipping a mug over the sink. It was peppermint tea. Which was weird, because if Blunt was thinking coherently at this time of the day... Marty didn't like tea.

"Hangover?" Blunt asked.

Despite Marty having slept most of the previous day, being wide awake early in the morning- he was the one too lazy to answer. Merely just nodding his head slowly.

"So..." Blunt said to the fridge.

"Nothing?" Marty asked.

"There's always something," Blunt replied but ironically closed the fridge.

"Maybe we don't need to eat."

In the awkward silence of the joke, Blunt grabbed two bowls and spoons. "I'm going to make Weetbix, is that okay?"

Again, Marty just shrugged.

"Did you whack your head too many times on the pillow?" Blunt asked, frowning. "You're acting... Odd."

"I have a feeling."

"Again?"

"Yes, Al; again!"

Blunt put down the box of cereal. "Marty, normally if you've done something you shouldn't have, or you expect that- you get that gut feeling about it. Couldn't you just tell me what you did?"

Marty gave Blunt a perplexed stare as he gently placed the mug on the drying section of the sink.

"The more you act this way, the more I think this house is gonna be a minefield." When Marty didn't say anything, and they both fixed their amount of breakfast, Blunt added, "is it got to do with Lisa?"

Marty shook his head (a simple act he couldn't even manage 7 hours ago) and took his place in the living room. Blunt noted mildly irritable that it was on _his_ couch, again. Before Blunt could do anything, Marty responded, "I just feel sentimental. Kind of like something is going to happen... But more like a sense of- ah, not like this has happened before- More like a warning reminisce."

"A... Warning? A warning reminisce?"

Marty nodded, his mouth full of breakfast.

Despite how strange Marty was acting, and how complicated his explanation was, Blunt felt slightly the same. He understood- maybe, because he was going to take a job of a spy.

And his best friend doesn't even know it- and might ever will.

When it was midday, both males having finished watching a movie, Blunt decided it. He'll join... and he might as well give Marty a hint. Maybe his head already gave up on Charlotte over night without his realising. He wasn't sure, but he didn't feel reckless. He stood up, cleaned the living room, placed the dirty dishes into the sink and poured water on them.

"Um… Marty?"

"Yeah, bro?"

Blunt waited until Marty reached the kitchen. "I… I'm getting a job. I got a job offer, and I've decided to take it."

Marty's head snapped up and he smiled. "That's great! What job is it?"

"Overseas bank manager."

There was a very slight- blink too slow and you'll miss it- pause.

"Why don't you look happy?"

Blunt rolled his eyes, "I'm tired."

"Oh," Marty said. He had his coffee in his hand and took another sip. They were quiet for a moment until- "what?"

The grey eyed male waited patiently until Marty calmed down. He knew what the problem was- what Marty just found out. But, the ironic part was, that the thing Marty's fussing over wasn't nearly as bad as the job offer really was.

"Y-You're moving? Where? To- To America? Will I ever see you again?"

Blunt slapped his face with a hand and rubbed his face in slight frustration. "Marty, shut up," he said as soon as he could get a word through his best friend's ramble.

Marty bit his lip and then furrowed his eyebrows. It was a habit he'd grown into for a few months; it shows when he's frustrated or angry. He took a long sip from the coffee before setting it down onto the kitchen bench and crossing his arms.

"I might have to go overseas a few times, but it wouldn't be longer than… 5 weeks at a time, or something. It's just finance, Marty. I'll probably be stuck at the office, behind a desk majority of the-"

"Whatever, Al," Marty said. Blunt worried he was really angry but when he glanced up, Marty was smiling. "It doesn't matter. Maybe I'm jealous… I always wanted to go to Thailand."

Marty affirmed that he'll stayed in Blunt's house for the rest of the day as Blunt went to the Royal and General Bank. He was unaware that when he left, Marty felt a chill and felt a little apprehensive. He didn't know what the problem was so he just went back into the living room and put back on the TV.

Blunt confirmed to Sebastian that he will take the job.

Sebastian was thrilled whilst he signed whatever papers he needed to join the career. After some form of an interview with Sebastian, Blunt was beginning to feel very apprehensive. Sebastian, however, sat behind his desk, in front of Blunt, looking very happy with a big grin across his face. It reminded Blunt of an evil clown in the movies before it strikes.

"Will you be okay being sent to the SAS in two days time?"

Blunt nodded half-numbly.

"Great," Sebastian stated and then continued to what the reasons to going to the SAS were for. He told Blunt what he needed to bring, what could happen, an outline of what's going to happen… He just kept talking for around 20 minutes. He also reminded Blunt of a teacher that could've been talking about what effects Bacteria can do to the human body instead of this speech. He had even asked if Blunt had any questions.

It wasn't that Blunt wasn't taking his seriously. He was paying attention to everything Sebastian was saying. It wasn't like he was trying to mock anyone or anything. He couldn't help it, and he still felt wary, so, he shook his head. He didn't have any questions.

"I'm very glad you've decided to join, Mr. Blunt. Please remember all our discussions… A black vehicle will come to your house on Thursday morning to pick you up and take you to the SAS, okay? You can tell anyone who asks, that for a few months your going to a First Aid Course. Of course, we do have any information or evidence if they want you to back it up, okay?"

Again, Blunt nodded.

"Take Care, Blunt," Sebastian stood up and shook Blunt's hand.

So, that afternoon he went back to his house and explained to Marty in familiar words as Sebastian said. Marty looked disgruntled as he started, "Al, that's okay… But… There's something I have to tell you."

"Yeah? And what's that?" Blunt asked, reaching for a beer from in the fridge.

"Well… when you were gone," there was a pause, in which Blunt opened the beer with the 'ping' noise, "Charlotte rung."

_A/N: I'm sorry about the beginning Author's Note! Haha... I'm still really tired but it's sort of just... Yeah. So, I think I like this chapter better than the previous! Probably because I was basically laughing every few lines at my humour. But... For all I know, this chapter was NOT funny and I'm just incoherent. Only way I'll know is if you review to give me feedback! I'd really appreciate it... Thank you so much to the people who have reviewed so far. You all make me smile, which I really need in these days. _

_P.S. I don't think I have the ability to re-read and edit this story now... So, I'm just gonna hope it makes sense and is okay before I click 'update' and load this as the official... Chapter Three *dun dun dun*!_

_P.P.S. Ah! See! An update... Around two weeks after my previous chapter. I'm really proud of that... Compared to how long it took me to upload chapter two from chapter one (: - Lightning And Blossoms_


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